


So Not the Afterlife

by Perro (Gadhar)



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Past, Reader-Insert, Storm is a real fashionista, WIP, Xavier can be a dick, occasional cursing, scalpels, shirtless Logan, smoking cigars, telepathy abound, the killing of trees, treeicide, uncontrolled powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-02-11 12:36:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2068446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gadhar/pseuds/Perro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're falling, exhausted, limbs heavy, and you're ready to be a pancake on the concrete but you manage to turn your head, looking over.</p><p>There's a group of people.</p><p> <i>Well, they're going to get squashed.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Damn those Wieners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was browsing around AO3 and came across a ReaderxWolverine fic. And, though I've never really read nor written a reader-insert, I thought I'd give it a try for the challenge of the point of view used. 
> 
> I tried to make this as general as possible but well, the reader is not a vegetarian nor a vegan but feel free to replace hot dogs with a food of your choice. That will make sense later. Also, you're just going to have to excuse the geek references.
> 
> There will probably be some relationship involved later. Probably reader/wolverine (because Hugh Jackman is hot therefore making Wolverine hot which means too much hotness in one man because often times Wolverine ain't half bad-looking himself in the comics) but I am open to suggestions.
> 
> Plus this will be mostly AU-ish and based off whatever I like from the movies, comics, TV shows, etc, etc.

You don't know what's happening. You just know, after living for only a month in New York City, that when everyone starts running, you run too.

The only problem is that, this time, everyone is running in different directions and you don't know which directions are safe and which directions are dangerous.

You're jumping blind, moving over the crowd, bouncing from one side of a building to the next with the use of your mutation.

Below you there is screaming, 'oh my god we're gonna die' and 'my leg! Where's my leg!" kind of screaming. Neither sounds good but you feel particularly bad for the newly amputated.

You can feel the vibrations under your feet, the buildings are shaking with the weight of whatever's coming.

In conclusion, you're terrified.

There's a loud crack and the building in front of you collapses. But it's too late. You already jumped.

You sail straight into the destruction, pieces of glass and metal slicing into you from all sides. You should have just stayed under the bridge. Why'd you leave the damn bridge?

_Oh right._

Hot dogs. You'd thought you'd steal some hot dogs, celebrate the good weather.

Damn those wieners.

You can't see anything as you fall, but you know it will be a short fall, you weren't too high up. Your senses tell you the ground is surging towards you but as you're tossed in the air you lose track of what's up and what's down.

When everything goes black you are not surprised.

*****

When you pry your eyes open some time later, you're not surprised at the pain.

It feels like you've been hit by a truck, and, who knows? Maybe you were while you laid passed out in the street.

What does surprise you, is the giant, blank, face of a robot looming over you. It's head is the size of an SUV and the rest of him...well, he gives Optimus Prime a run for his money.

"Mutant identified. Prepare to be terminated."

 _Terminated,_ you thought, _what the hell does that mean?_

When the eyes of your new giant robot friend begin to glow, it clicks for you. And you think,

_Ohhh, right. Death._

And then,

_Oh shit, lasers._

You scramble to your feet and take off running. The only plan you've got in your head right now is to get the hell out of Dodge. Or, New York City, in this case.

The ground shakes behind you, signifying the strike of those lasers. If the giant chunks of asphalt flying by your head are any indication, those things are pretty strong, so you resolve not to get struck by one.

You look back to find the robot right on top of you. It's fast, that's for sure. The robot is gearing up for a punch and you know, that even if you manage to escape the initial blow, the debris and upheaval may actually kill you.

So you jump.

On the way up, you remember that there's a name for these things, they're _that_ famous.

_It was Santa something right?_

Your feet catch the overhanging streetlight and you hang for a moment. Sometimes your mutation- the amazing jumping power and the ability to cling to walls and such- was stupid, times like these it was pretty useful though.

The santobot- _wait, santobot?_ That's not it either, but you're getting close- looks less menacing upside down.

So does his pal.

_Oh shit._

You swing yourself so you can perch on top of the streetlight. You're not even eye-level with these things.

You narrow your eyes and wait, with all the dust and debris it seems the senten's- still no- have lost track of you. For the moment at least.

You have no clue what to do.

Truth is, you've never fought giant robots before. Ever. And there's no longer anyone running around screaming so you're on your own. You can feel exhaustion setting in too. 

You weren't in the best shape before all this started anyway. You'll probably be worse off by the time it ends.

Hopefully that didn't mean your own nameless tombstone.

At this rate, you might even have to use your secret weapon.

Not cool.

You hear a loud whine and then, "Mutant identified. Prepare to be terminated."

"Don't you guys know any other songs?" You say as you jump from streetlight to streetlight, looking for an escape route. You can't be out in the open for much longer.

You spot an alleyway across the street about two blocks down. That's your goal.

You drop down from the light and make a break for it. _Stupid four lane roads. So freaking **big.**_

And then your feet leave the ground.

Mr. Giant Robot has you in his grip and boy, is he _squeezing._

"Mutant identified. Prepare to be terminated," It says again and you nod weakly, squirming experimentally.

You can't get out.

This day just keeps getting better and better.

The robot's squeezing the very breath out of you, repeating its stupid mantra, and your vision is getting a little dark.

 _So this is how it all ends?_ It's no big deal, you suppose. You don't have a whole lot to live for. It does kind of trash your idea of going out with a bang though.

Guess it's a good thing you still have your ace.

Thing is, you're not some one trick pony. Sure, you can jump and stick to walls but you've got another ability. Something far more...explosive.

And you can't control it, but, that's why there's no people around, right?

Focusing on the robot you feel your power gathering. It's energy based, all kinetic energy stored from your jumping. It takes a lot out of you but this seems the time to see how powerful you can get.

Or maybe not. They're are a lot of buildings around that would probably like to remain standing.

No matter.

It's easy, like flipping a switch, and you feel the rush of energy leave you just as your vision narrows to a point.

In a burst of green light that blinds you, you feel the robot's hand convulse and open just enough for you to slip out.

And down.

The air's rushing by you and through slitted eyes you can see a fireball engulfing the robot as a series of explosions disrupt the air.

It's like fireworks.

"Two Sentinels up ahead!"

 _Sentinels,_ right. That's what they're called.

_Wait, who said that?_

You're falling, exhausted, limbs heavy, and you're ready to be a pancake on the concrete but you manage to turn your head, looking over.

There's a group of people.

_Well, they're going to get squashed._

"Make that one Sentinel," The voice amends just as another shouts "Civilian!"

You're inclined to thank them for noticing but talking's hard so you just fall.

You feel the impact on your side.

Everything snaps to nothing. Blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing within this except the plot. But I do want an Optimus Prime. Well, _the_ Optimus Prime, really.
> 
> This is not beta'd. Except by my self, so, who knows how that went.


	2. Okay. Creepy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If you don't want people playing with these, you might not want to leave them out in the open. They're kind of pointy. Very dangerous."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't actually going to post this chapter yet, but, what the hey. I'm shallow, this is what comments do to me, make me post things early. :P
> 
> I'm new to the reader-insert thing, as previously stated, so here are some terms I used to establish some things in this chapter. If you got any tips, feel free to share. I am in uncharted waters.
> 
> (F/N) = First/Name. As in, insert your first name here, while reading. I've seen blanks used, and this used. I prefer this. I honestly will be trying to avoid throwing names around too much or anything else like this because I am trying to keep this open to every reader no matter who you are. So yeah.

The first thing you think is, _am I dead?_ You felt yourself hit the pavement. And there were giant robots. 

Sentinels. 

Whatever. 

But if this is what the afterlife looks like you are sorely disappointed. 

Everything hurts. Not in a life-threatening-mortal-wound kind of way, but in a 'I feel like I was run over by a truck. Three times. What the hell happened last night?' kind of way. 

Being dead shouldn't be painful. You're pretty sure there's a rule against that. 

Plus the afterlife is _so_ uncomfortable. Whatever you're laying on feels like a metal slab, cold and hard. And this ceiling looks way too much like a hospital's for your taste. 

So do the walls actually. 

You sit up slowly, feeling every tug on battered muscles and skin. You sit there cross-legged and just look. 

White walls, gray floor, and a whole lot of shiny steel equipment. Either this was a hospital, or a test facility. 

Neither was very appealing. 

It's then you notice you're naked, aside from the blanket now pooled in your lap. 

_Okay. Creepy._

You're also covered in bandages, tiny pinkish spots staining some of them. 

_Okay. Creepier_. 

You almost heal yourself, you can do that- to a certain extent- by manipulating energy, speeding up cell regrowth and whatnot. 

But assuming this isn't all some elaborate dream, you're not too sure you could handle delicate energy work after blowing up a robot with a wild uncontrolled blast of the stuff. 

Instead you get up, blanket wrapped around yourself, and look for clothes. There's wired leads attaching you to some computers so you pull those off after padding around in a small circle, looking to unplug them. No sense in making all the machines go haywire, alerting everyone to your consciousness. Not to mention it'd give you a headache. Those things are _so_ annoying. 

Then, you get lucky. 

After coming across monitors, bandages, meds, needles, and weird blade things that are definitely _not_ scalpels, you find some clothes. Even undergarments. 

So the afterlife does have some comforts. 

With baggy sweats, a tank top, and a hoodie- all gray and super fashionable- pulled on, you grab two scalpels, poking the blades through the sleeves of your hoodie so they are hidden, secured and comfortable, against your wrists. 

Afterlife or not, you are not going into this weaponless. 

You yank your hood up and head to the door, pausing to listen. There are no sounds so you crack it open, peep out, and edge into the hallway. Closing the door behind you, you crouch low, observing the hall. 

Dark rich wood paneling, old long rugs, and silver decorations. It speaks of wealth, absolutely _reeks_ of old money. It's definitely closer to the luxury you expected in the afterlife though. But, it is surprisingly devoid of...well, dead people. 

Still, you kind of like the idea of living royally- dead or not. 

Unsure, you pick a direction and head that way, crouched low, pressed against the wall, and moving as slow as possible while still being quick. 

You glance out the nearest window and see _...kids?_ They're on a basketball court, rich green woods in the background. So- 

Other dead people. 

Point for the theory of an afterlife. 

You hear something then, a small _click_ behind you, then a breath and- 

"I'm afraid this isn't the afterlife, friend," A voice says and you jump. 

The ceilings are tall in this place so you end up somewhere high on a wall, crouched and hissing. 

Sometimes you think you're part cat. 

"I didn't mean to frighten you," The man says and he's older, in a wheelchair, and bald. 

Point against the theory of an afterlife. 

You stare at each other- you hissing and tense, ready to pounce, and him, calm, staring and smiling. 

"No one here will hurt you," He says and your fingers curl. _Don't make promises you can't keep,_ you want to say but don't. 

"Professor, I-" A new voice says and you hiss, jumping. 

Admittedly, you're scared and even if you weren't, you don't like strangers. Those things combined have you attacking, heading straight for the new voice just as the older guy shouts, "Scott, no!" 

You land on this 'Scott' guy, scalpels out and pressed against his throat. 

He doesn't move, just holds his hands out, palms facing you. You wish you could see his eyes through his glasses, be able to read his intentions, but you can't. 

"(F/N), don't." The older one, the _Professor,_ says, but he- 

You press the blades down, just a little, and Scott gasps a little, growing incredibly still as the blades cut in, just a little. 

He talked in your head. _Your. Head._

"Let me explain," The Professor says and you flinch. Your hands are shaking and you wish they'd stop. 

You're prepared to kill if you have to. 

Okay, maybe you're not, but if you have to go through people to get the hell out of here, then you will. There are people in your head and kids outside and it is weird. 

"Please, " The Professor says again, this time out loud and you're relieved. Most of the time you don't like your own mind, other people don't need to be in there, knowing your name and making your skin crawl. 

"I apologize. My name is Charles Xavier, and you are in my home. You are safe," The professor- this Xavier- says, and you lean back a little, taking the pressure off the blades. 

"Thank you," Scott says, but you ignore him. 

"What happened?" You ask, wanting answers. You're supposed to be dead.. 

"My students found you, Scott and some others, fighting a Sentinel. You were injured so they brought you here to heal." 

"I _fell,_ " You say because at this point, you don't know what else to say. Your head is starting to hurt. 

This is too confusing. 

"Yeah, you did. And I caught you," Yet another voice says and you press the blades down again, glaring. 

_Too many people._

_Exits are blocked._

_Damn._

The new guy is rough-looking. Good rough-looking. Broad and all muscles, he looks like a fighter. These other guys you could probably take . At the very least you'd have a chance. But this guy? This guy would end you. 

"Take it easy, Kid. Ain't no one looking to hurt you. But you got to put the knives away." 

You believe him. You're not sure why, but you do. This man keeps his promises, it's all in the way he talks. 

So you stand, getting off Scott, and look down at the scalpels. All of your being is telling you to throw them in someone's neck and run for you life. Like seriously. Afterlife is so not fun anymore. But, instead, you twirl the blades around so you can hand them, handle out. 

"If you don't want people playing with these, you might not want to leave them out in the open. They're kind of pointy. Very dangerous." 

The burly man smiles, just a twitch at the corner of his lips, and takes the blades. 

"You know, I'm kind of glad I'm not dead and this is real. 'Cause, as an afterlife, this is really depressing." 

"I imagine so," Xavier says, wheeling up to you and smiling. "Now, you are still injured and I would urge you to rest, but, I'm not forcing you so, would you like some rest or answers first?" 

"Answers. Definitely. No offense, I'm sure the beds are probably as comfortable as you are bald, but I'm not sleeping until I know what's going on. Besides, you don't want me attempting murder again, right?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I may have ~~totally used~~ borrowed, with a few changes, that scene from _X-Men_ where Logan wakes up at the mansion and Charles just kind of fucks with him, but, I couldn't help it. At least Charles is being less mischievous in my version.


	3. That's a Bit Unnerving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You didn't. I mean it was offensive, in a way I don't think you get, but it wasn't really directed at you. Actually, I think I probably offended you...guys."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, chapter 3 here we go.  
> Again (F/N)- insert first name here.
> 
> Bit of an _introducing..._ chapter. There's some angst though. So, enjoy the taste of your past.

The Professor ends up leading you to his office. It's stuffy and cluttered with novelties and pictures, but it's neat. 

It's a clash between a teacher and a father. 

There's a line of people in front of you when you walk in and that makes you tense, your shoulders bunching underneath your sweatshirt. Stolen comfy sweatshirt. 

"You can sit, if you like," The Professor says from his place behind the desk. "I thought it might help if you met the people who brought you here." 

_Help freak me out maybe,_ you think. And no way are you sitting. This many people in a room with only one door only serves to make you more nervous. 

"You already met Logan and Scott Summers. Going down the line is Ororo Munroe, Piotr Rasputin, Hank McCoy, Kurt Wagner, and Jean Grey. Jean is the one who bandaged you up." 

Everyone nods in turn and you commit it all to memory. Logan, mean and honest, Scott, kind of a dork, Ororo, kind and classy, Piotr, quiet and polite, Hank... _blue,_ Kurt... _also blue._ And German. And then Jean, someone you can't really get a read on. 

It's all first impressions but your observations are usually correct. And right now it's all you got. Of course, your instincts have saved your ass in the past so why deny them now? 

"These are my-" 

"X-Men," You say suddenly, information suddenly flooding into your head. "Wolverine, Cyclops, Storm, Colossus, Nightcrawler, and...you." You wiggle your fingers in the direction of Jean. She looks ready to claw your eyes out. 

_Ooh, feisty._ "You've heard of us then?" The Professor asks and there's new light in his eyes. 

"Umm...maybe? From TVs in shop windows probably. You guys fight the robo-things." 

"Sentinels," Logan cuts in and he's got a wry grin on his face, mouth closed around an unlit cigar. "Looks like you fight 'em too." 

The Professor chuckles at that and everyone's staring at you with this weird look on their faces. 

_"What?"_ You snap, rubbing the back of your neck. No one's ever really _stared_ at you before. 

"Kid, you took down a Sentinel single-handedly. That don't happen often." 

"No, I got lucky," You counter. "Figured if I was gonna kick it, I might as well go out with a bang." 

The Professor smiles, "Your mutation seemed like a little more than a bang. I don't think I've ever seen a mutant-" 

"I'm not a mutant!" You spit. The words had flown out your mouth on reflex. You were vicious with the too, like they were an insult, an _accusation._ And everyone is watching you with varying degrees of confusion, anger, and hurt. 

You basically just called a room full of mutants the scum of the universe. Great job. 

You walk over to the window, head down and crossing your arms. You're trembling a little and you can't stand to look them in the eyes. 

There's proably hate there anyway. 

But they don't understand. They weren't- they weren't there, at your house, with your family while it burned down around you. _Because of you._ And they weren't at the lab either, or on the streets. They don't know and you can't blame them for that. 

"Don't-" You have to take a breath to stop your voice from shaking. You press your forehead against the glass, closing your eyes, and start again. "Don't single me out. As something different. I'm not saying- I _know_ what I am. But I'm not going to hold myself to some greater plane of existence. I live, I die. End of story. I'm just a person, just like everyone else." 

There are flames flickering on the back of your eyelids, screams of ghosts in your ears. And then there are voices- _Freak. Mutie. Genetically superior. Inheritor of the world._

Lies. 

All lies. 

"(F/N)" 

You don't open your eyes but you manage to clamp down on all the bad memories. You're tired, you realize suddenly, like bricks dropping on you. You need sleep. "I hope you're not poking around in my head?" You ask quietly. 

It's just something to say, you don't really care either way at this point. 

You're in a house with strangers, injured and tired, and you've decided that until tomorrow you're not going to think about anything too seriously. 

"As a telepath, I find minds to be like pieces of art. Some serene, calm and beautiful, others damaged and fiery, but no less beautiful. I must say I find yours to be a surprising combination of the two. But, no matter how fascinating I find your or anyone else's mind to be, I try not to intrude unwanted." 

"I don't mind actually," You say, a little surprised that it's the truth. "To a certain degree that is. I'm- well, I had a friend who was a telepath, once. Communication's a lot faster, that's for sure. And there's no tumbling over words in awkward situations. They never went digging around either, so I didn't mind. 

"With you, well, I have to say I'm not getting a bad vibe of this place, but I don't trust you. So this, " You gesture to your temple, "Ain't happening." 

"Fair enough. I didn't mean to offend you earlier." 

"You didn't. I mean it was offensive, in a way I don't think you get, but it wasn't really directed at you. Actually, I think I probably offended you...guys." You've turned from the window but there's no longer anyone there. Just the Professor and you. 

_That's a bit unnerving._

"I asked them to leave. Even without telepathy I can tell you're uncomfortable. With telepathy, well, you'r feelings are a bit..." 

"Intense?" You guess. That's how it always was for Nathan. You were so clamped up on emotions he always told you how much it hurt him. He couldn't believe you felt so many things at once, or at such intensity. Transfer's such a bitch, he had groaned. 

"Excuse me?" 

"What?" You try not to appear too space cadet-ish, even though you were probably blinking owlishly and completely ignorant of whatever the Professor had said. 

Thoughts of Nathan disappeared just as fast as they had come. 

"You said something?" The Professor prompts. 

"Transfer's a bitch?" You say uncertainly, shrugging before walking over and dropping into the chair in front of the Professor's desk. 

The Prof raises an intriguing brow so you fill him in. Reluctantly. "Something Na- my friend, would say. He always complained about being around me when I was," You pause, trying to find a word that was truthful without being totally revealing and that didn't make you sound completely mental. "Unstable," You decide on and, well, you're not sure you met either of your criteria. 

"Ah, well...are you alright?" 

Your head snaps up so quick you're pretty sure you've given yourself whiplash. Dozing in the enemy's presence, no matter how kind he seems, is a bad idea. 

"I'm fine. Just tired. More than I thought, I mean. I haven't slept a full night since..." You realize you can't remember the last time you slept well, much less a full night. It had to be sometime when you were with Nathan...maybe not even then. 

"I realize you would like to have all the answers right this second, but at this point, I feel compelled to urge you to rest. I'm not going to force you but..." 

"You want me to stay the night, at least?" You guess and really, you figure _what do I have to lose?_ "Even though I stole your scalpels and tried to kill your Cyclops?" 

"Now who's telepathic?" 


	4. Dinner is a, well, experience.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Uh-huh. And then what? Wander park bench to park bench, looking for your friend?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dinner party! Not really. Just dinner. Logan's a cheeky bastard. But that's why we love him.
> 
> (F/N)- first name  
> Oh, and telepathic communication is between asterisks so like, *There are mysteries to the universe we were never meant to solve. But who we are and why we are here, are not among them. Those answers we carry inside. I am Optimus Prime, and this message is to my Creators: leave planet Earth alone, 'cause I'm coming for you!* -so all that? Yeah, right there, _telepathy_.
> 
> TF4 was beast by the way, just yeah.

Waking up is... 

Wow. 

Just wow. You've never felt this pleasantly numb before. Your head feels stuffed, with cotton or however the saying goes. But it's nice. Almost as nice as the heavy feeling of your eyelids and stretch of your muscles. 

Sleep is amazing, you decide. Everyone needs to do it. Often too. Way more often. 

So you lay there and stare at the ceiling, then the walls and really the room itself. When you stumbled in here at whatever time yesterday, led by the Professor, you hadn't really looked around. It was just- 

_Professor gone._

Door locked. 

'Ooh, bed.' 

Flop down. 

Sleep. 

The room though, is nice. Well more like _Nice,_ capital N and italicized. Comfy four-poster bed, real oak dresser, and a desk. Fancy writing desk at that. 

You honestly thought they'd stick you in the attic or something. Maybe the basement. Though, basements give off a creepy prisoner vibe don't they? And Xavier did mention something about not forcing you to stay. Maybe they are just nice people. 

You thought they were extinct. 

And then you realize something. 

Oh, god, what if you were in someone's _room?_ Someone's _bed?_

You scramble out of the bed, pretending as though you didn't fall on your face in haste as you stagger into the hall. 

You straighten your clothes as best you can, wondering if these people are going to want their clothes back or not. Maybe you should get a shower, are you even allowed to do that? Luke did help you out that last time, so you probably don't smell _horrid_ , but that's a far cry from _good_ , isn't it? 

*You're free to do as you wish while here. And you can keep the clothes as well,* Someone says in your head and you take an instinctive step back into the doorway before remembering. 

_Oh right. Xavier. Telepathy._

"Um, so I can get a shower?" You realize too late you really don't need to say it out loud. Still, you want to be sure of things. 

*Of course,* Xavier says, and, is he laughing? *Logan's on his way with clothes.* 

"Logan?" 

"Yeah, me. Here, Kid." Logan's suddenly in front of you, shoving a bundle of clothes at you. 

You stare at them incredulously because- well they look _new_ and- 

"Are these-" 

"Chuck asked me to go shopping, okay? They're unisex or whatever, so what more do you want? I don't need or care what you wear as long as it's more clothes than what the Ice Queen wears. So, I freaking tried. I just wanted beer." 

An image of Logan in a clothes store, arms full and barking orders at a sales lady while a manager whispers words to calm her, enters your mind. He'd probably be saying something like 'Shh, just- just treat him like a rabid dog. Move slowly. Offer things.' 

That's what you would say at least. 

You bust out laughing and Logan stares at you like you just asked him if he wore lace thongs. 

You're sent into another bout of laughter at _that_ picture. 

*I did _not_ need that imagery. Though, Logan has branded the entire shopping experience as a traumatic experience.* 

"Sorry Prof. Didn't know you were still hanging around in my head." Nathan would cringe if he saw you vocalizing telepathic communication. But, it takes a while to get used to it. Again. Plus the Prof feels... _different_ than Nathan ever did. 

"So glad you and the Prof are having a good chuckle at my expense, but dinner's on in twenty and I'd like to be there. Shower's down the hall, Pipsqueak." 

_Pipsqueak,_ that was just inaccurate. It wasn't like you were five. 

Nor did you squeak. 

You start down the hall, wondering if the Professor was still listening. 

*Only if you want me to,* the answer comes. 

"I was just-" You stop, restricting your words to your mind only. *Wondering how long I've been out. Logan said something about dinner?* 

*Well, see, initially you were unconscious for five days and then you woke for brief instances over the next two. Yesterday was the first time you were lucid. And obviously, we had our discussion before you slept again.* 

*How long?* You repeat, insistent. 

*19 hours.* 

_Holy cow._ You've never slept like that before. That was more than a week, all together. Like a super nap. 

*Please note that you were not in good way when we brought you here. Your powers alone...* 

*Were uncontrollable and kicked my ass? Yeah, I know.* 

*I may be able to help with that you know.* 

*Really?* 

*(F/N), that is what this school is for.* 

*This place is a school?* 

*Of course, did I not mention this earlier?* 

*No. So, those dead kids earlier?* 

*Are most certainly _not_ dead.* 

Was that a hint of exasperation in Xavier's voice? 

Probably, you do tend to have that effect on people. 

*They are students here. You're welcome to join us.* 

You stopped suddenly, hand on the knob of the bathroom door. 

*I'm sorry, I'm assuming you don't have uh, prior obligations.* 

*I- I uh don't, it's just-* 

_You're not fit for human civilization._

You shake your head, catching the tail end of whatever it is the Professor is saying. 

*We can talk more later, perhaps over dinner. There's about 15 minutes of a wait still.* 

xxx 

Dinner is a, well, experience. 

Everything that happens in this place seems to be an experience. 

You arrive late, fingers running through wet hair as you try to look a little more put together. 

It's not that the dinner is black-tie formal or anything (like really, Logan's in hole-filled jeans and an oil stained undershirt) you just have this nervous need to look...good? These people saved your life, healed your wounds, and let you sleep in their bed. 

Er- well, ew, that sounded wrong. 

Point is, new clothes aside, you're still wearing the hoodie because- _comfy,_ it's like a damn cloud- and one should look nice and appear grateful to those who save one's life, right? That's a rule too, somewhere. You're pretty sure. 

"Please, sit," The lady, Storm or should it be Ororo? Ms. Munroe? What if she's married? Maybe it should - 

Her hand grabs your shoulder, disrupting your thoughts and she guides- pulls- you to a seat between herself and Logan. She's already dishing up food onto your plate and you can't help but stare. There's something in the way she does this- all one-handed with the other hand always on your shoulder- that makes it seem as though she's caught between being scared you're going to leave and being pretty damn sure you're not going to leave unless you go _through_ her. 

Like a storm waiting to happen. 

_Hmm, Storm it is._

"Um, thanks," You mutter, words catching in your throat a little but she smiles anyway. "So...is this like a thing?" You ask, gesturing between yourself and everyone else at the table with the fork you were just poking the broccoli with. "You know, this?" 

Logan snorts loudly, like some wild animal, and you almost jump. It's happened so quick you didn't even notice- earlier you were fine, and now you're kind of freaking out. 

_"No,"_ Logan says just as loudly and you notice he's the only one with a beer. "Chuck likes to have this bit of adult time. But, it usually don't work. He always wonders why too, even though the answer's obvious." 

"Logan-" 

"It's called running a _school._ Once you open those doors- you can kiss 'adult time' goodbye." Logan smacks his lips together before grinning and you can see the pure irritation in Xavier's face. 

You try really hard not to laugh. 

"Ignoring Logan, I did this because I try to make all new prospective students feel welcome." 

_Ah, another one of those 'helping things' No wonder I'm nervous._

"Yeah so, eat, tell us about yourself. We all want to hear the stories of someone who defeated a terrible Sentinel!" Nightcrawler exclaims from his seat across from you. He's still blue, and German, so apparently he can't change out of the appearance. Though, he has a tail which is _cool_ and he's _blue_ like, double cool. 

"I told you, I got lucky," You pop two pieces of steak in your mouth and really wish you could just faceplant the plate and suck it all down. 

But no, you have manners. 

Some. 

"I'm just a no-name from Montana." Which is true. You are. You're not famous like these mutant heroes and there was no one left behind to miss you. 

"How'd you end up in New York?" 

"I walked." 

There's a round of snorts, laughs, and smiles with one seriously displeased look on the Professor's face. 

Did he think you were kidding? 

*I'm actually afraid you're not.* 

_"I'm not,"_ You answer aloud and all you get is confused looks. "Joking. I'm not joking. I literally walked. I mean, there was this one time, on a bus, but some guy stole my pack so I stopped using buses. Then there was the trucker and-" 

You bite your tongue so violently you're surprised your mouth isn't flooded with blood. 

What were you doing? 

Spouting your life story? You didn't even know these guys. Niceties aside, you needed to shut up and _now._

Saving a life only goes so far in the credit book. 

It was the steak, you always got talkative over food. 

"The trucker?" Storm questions and when you look at her blankly she says, "What happened with the trucker you were travelling with?" 

"Oh, right. It uh- it just didn't work out." 

Because trucker guy turned out to be a mutant torturing scientist but hey- he got you to Jersey right? 

"So why New York then?" The Professor asks and you know it's because he's trying to avoid awkward silences. Too bad he's asking about something even more awkward. 

"I just came here....dreams of the Big Apple, you know?" Apparently they don't know because all eating stops as everyone looks at you- wanting a better answer. 

You stuff more food in your mouth, just to stall. "I was- _am_ -looking for something. Um, someone." 

"A friend?" Logan asks and he's putting a roll on top of the pile of food he just dumped on your plate. 

"Kind of." 

"Would this be your telepathic friend?" 

"What? Oh, yeah. Him." 

"Him?" Logan cuts back into the conversation and you wonder why no one else is talking and why the people who _are_ talking are only talking about _you._

"Yeah. Him. Look uh, I had a family and then I didn't. I had a- a friend. And now, I don't know. But that's all there is to my life story and you've probably heard it before but still. Details _not_ included." 

"No one was prying or trying-" The Professor starts but you cut him off, waving a roll. 

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I just- I'm not good at small talk, sharing life stories. So, talk about something else, yeah? Something not me?" 

And cue the awkward silence. 

Everyone is done eating and you're full yourself but every time you look down there's more on your plate. 

It's Logan, you know it. That cheeky grin says it all. 

Does he want you to eat the entire table? Maybe you should try, just to see if you can. You feel obligated to eat anyway. 

"Can't do that Kid, you're the guest of honor. The conversation's got to be about you." Logan says eventually, he seemed to be enjoying all the awkwardness felt by everyone _but_ him. "So Kid, what's next? You staying here?" 

"I- um- I..." Were you? Where else would you go? 

"Where else would you go?" Logan asks like he's read your mind. 

You shoot a look at Xavier, but he's leaned back in his chair, watching it all unfold. 

So is everyone actually. 

_Creepers._

Look's like Logan is the school spokesman though. 

"I'll find somewhere, I guess." 

"Uh-huh. And then what? Wander park bench to park bench, looking for your friend?" 

You clench your jaw, trying not to ball your fists. Was he _mocking_ you? How the hell did he even know about your 'living situation'? 

"Relax Kid, you reek of streets. We see it often enough 'round here. So how 'bout it? Keep a warm bed, learn a thing or two, avoid Sentinels firing lasers at you? Heck, you might even run into your friend, who knows? 

"It ain't got to be forever. But what else are you gonna do?" 

Well, you were going to troll around Greenwich, find that magic guy. Nathan had mentioned him before. Maybe even get those hot dogs you had set out for a week ago. 

With your luck you'd probably end up magicked into the _Nevernever,_ or turned _into_ a giant hot dog. 

Maybe those Sentinels wanted hot dogs and that's why they attacked you. 

"Alright, " You say, stopping your thoughts because- wow. _Ridiculous._ "So uh, where can I get some decent hot dogs?"


	5. Poor Freakin' Trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Char- les,"_ Logan mocks, pronouncing each syllable with undue emphasis, "Is a telepath. He could find us if he wanted."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More telepathic communication. As always, it;s between the asterisks. Also I do not own One Piece, but Captain Smoker is a beast and one o my favorite characters.
> 
> Also, this chapter does a little timeskip. And has trees.

Nathan is not here. 

You've only been at the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters- you have to say the full name and all otherwise you don't get the effect- a little over a month but one of the first things you did was scour the school and the grounds. 

Nathan is not here. 

You weren't really expecting him to be, in all honesty. But you'd be lying if you said that you weren't hoping, just a little. 

So much for hope. 

But you're still here, at the school, and you feel a little guilty because you're getting used to the comfort. 

Nearly expecting it. 

It's going to be that much harder when they finally kick you out, or you leave. Whichever comes first. 

"Ain't no one going to throw you out, Kid," Logan mutters, smacking your arm with the hand not holding a cigar. 

Logan smokes. 

_Like a lot._

You have no idea why he isn't part chimney yet. Or have smoke powers as his mutation like that guy on _One Piece._

And you still wonder if Logan's been lying about the lack of telepathy, or if he's got some sort of connection rigged with the Professor. He always knows what you're thinking. _It's annoying._

"Yeah, well, it's only been a month. Give it time," You reply dejectedly, leaning back against a branch. 

Truth be told you're starting to like this place, not necessarily all the _people,_ but the place itself has it's perks. Like now. 

You and Logan are up in a Black Walnut. Every day you seem to end up with Logan doing something, usually involving trees because you like climbing them and Logan just likes the peace and quiet of being so high up. 

Now though, you're both just hiding from the other X-Men. 

"So you killed a few trees, so what? They may be on Chuck's property but I doubt he's terribly attached to them." 

_"A few trees?"_ You snap, gesturing towards the literal _hole,_ yes, spell it h-o-l-e, _hole,_ in the ground before you. "I wiped out a twenty foot circle. _Of trees._ That's like...treeicide." 

"You did not just say that." 

You totally just said that. 

"Okay, even if it is...uh, whatever you just said, Chuck ain't going to kick you out for it." 

"Can you stop calling him that? You know he hates that nickname. Hell, he probably has some kind of beacon system that leads right to you whenever the name Chuck is even mentioned. He'll find us." 

_"Char- les,"_ Logan mocks, pronouncing each syllable with undue emphasis, "Is a telepath. He could find us if he wanted." 

You snort, climbing out onto a limb and staring down. Logan had brought you out here to test your offensive abilities a bit. What he neglected to do, however, was tell Jean you were skipping her class, and protect the trees from your wrath. 

_Poor freakin' trees._

Logan had pushed buttons and you had got angry, lost control, started something that was a cross between a lightning storm and an explosion. At this point, you rather pretend you didn't even have powers. 

*Never be ashamed of your abilities.* 

You twitch a little as the Prof's voice comes in a little louder than necessary. 

You twirl on the branch, shooting Logan a pleading look. He just smiles and jumps to the ground. 

You follow his movements, irritated. 

_Coward._

*Don't worry, Jean will get him.* 

Sure enough, Logan's path is cut off by Jean who tears into him immediately. 

You're suddenly a little less reluctant to deal with the Professor. 

*I'd like to see you in my office.* 

_Of course you would._

You scale your way down a few branches easily, making the track back to the mansion easier by jumping branch to branch. 

Plus, you get to avoid Scott this way, who is also prowling the grounds, looking slightly less pissed than his girlfriend, but far more likely to have a stick where the sun don't shine. 

xxx 

The Professor isn't actually in his office when you get there and drop unceremoniously into a chair 

Telepathically he says something about running into a student and being a little late, in which you nod, like he can see you. 

You settle in for a long wait- or a short wait. It's hard to tell whether this is a 'lost control of my powers' situation in which, long wait. Or a 'I have a pimple trying to eat my face' situation, in which, short wait. 

Regardless this waiting thing last a whole two seconds before your bored. 

_I believe that is a new record._

You're on your feet and in the Professor's chair before you even think about it. The new perspective allows you into the Prof's head a little, seeing things how he would. 

All exits and entrances are immediately visible and with the placement of windows, there's really no way to hide in here. Even with your back turned to the Prof, one good look at the right window and he can see your face. 

There's no doubt in your mind that this is done on purpose, making the Professor a careful man. 

Careful like you. 

Ergo, dangerous. 

You're already checking for weaknesses in this system- blind spots, anything- when a picture catches your eye. 

It's the Prof, a lot younger but still just as bald, with another man- tall with silver mane of hair and haunted eyes. 

_Well, ain't that familiar._

You handle the picture carefully, old instincts kicking in and saying fingerprints, watch the fingerprints. You ignore them. 

But you stare. 

The man looks extremely familiar. You're even sure you know quite a bit about him. It's all heavy on your tongue, bitter and near sour. His name escapes you though, and it's the most frustrating thing but you plow ahead, trying to remember. 

_Was he one of Nate's guys?_

Nathan had a lot of guys. Ones he hated, ones he trusted to do what he said, and one's he had baffling relations with. All you could remember was the chimichanga guy. 

And this Prof's buddy is definitely _not_ that guy. 

You set the picture back down and see the other photos. A lot of them are the Professor and his students, one of them is just a picture of a well, _happy?_ , creature of some sort. 

Some kind of mole or something. It has claws, whatever it is. 

Maybe the Prof has a pet somewhere? 

_A cat would be better for him though,_ you think. Then, the cat could curl up on his head and he could have some approximation of hair. 

"But then the claws would be digging into my scalp, wouldn't they?" 

You freeze, hand a finger's width away form the handle of a desk drawer. You pull it back quickly, wondering if the burning feeling you feel is real or not. 

"It's not a mole, by the way. It's a wolverine." 

"Like Logan?" You balk. There's an image of Logan up next to this creature in your head and other than the mean face and the out of control hair you can't see the similarity. 

Other than the claws, of course. 

"His namesake perhaps. Now, as comfortable as I'm sure you are behind my desk. I really need that chair. Kindly vacate?" 

You nod, nearly jumping out of the chair and over the desk to get to the seat you were in earlier. 

By the time you're seated, the Professor has already transferred himself from the wheelchair. 

_He must have some serious upper arm strength._

"Why thank you, comes with the territory, I think. Basically a necessity." 

"Uh, sorry, about the desk thing. I'm a bit of a snoop." A really good one, most of the time. 

"I don't believe I know what you're referring to." 

There's no way. He saw you behind his desk, your hand was three-fourths of the way into whatever stash he has in that drawer. 

_Maybe it's a candy stash? I could go for some caramels._

"Um, nevermind then," Because you're definitely not going to explain to him. "That's a comfy chair you got there," You say stupidly, leaning back and going to cross your legs. That doesn't even last a moment before you feel uncomfortable, more so that is, and you go back to having your hands on your knees, leaning forward. 

"Yes well, it's one those ergonomic things. Jubilee insisted." 

You hum in response but all you're thinking about is 'Is he going to talk about the trees?' and how fast you can get out of here before he does. 

And the candy. Of course. 

"So, your teacher's tell me you do well in class." 

"I do-" 

"When you're there." 

"Um...that's totally Logan's fault. He-" 

"Don't worry. I'm aware of what you and Logan are doing. There's a better time of course, but." 

_Well that sounds dirty,_ you think as the Prof shrugs a little. 

"I'll deal with him later. That's not what this is about." And he's so serious when he says it you feel your nerves tighten about five notches. "

"Oh my god," You burst out, "If this is about the trees I am so, _so,_ sorry. I'll buy you new ones...or plant them. Or something." Where do you even get tree seeds? Saplings? Whatever. 

You sound near hysterical, well as hysterical as you get but even you can hear the crack in your voice. And the Professor looks worried, doubtful even, so you bust out an "I know people!" just in case. 

And he just laughs. 

The Prof's eyes crinkle as he leans forward. "I'm sure you do," He says and you've got this sensation of impending doom building in your gut. Despite the Prof's cheery countenance. 

It's ready to send you into fight or flight mood. 

And you nearly bolt, right then, when the Professor smiles, something between reassuring and malicious, and _are his eyes glowing red? Maybe not but shit this is bad,_ when he says the reason you're _really_ there. 

"I want to talk about your past."


	6. Your Shirt's Really Soft.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like, 'What are you- oh wow, look skin- _oh my god those abs._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words between asterisks are telepathic communication.
> 
> This chapter has a lot of mood changes. There's some sad, some anger, some fluff, some humor, some weirdness.
> 
> Also Logan is just the star of this chapter.

"You wanna what now?" There's anger creeping into your voice because- because _he promised_ \- they _all_ promised- to leave well enough alone. "I told you that was off the table. If that's what you're asking, to let me stay here, then say so now so I can get the hell out." 

"Are you so ashamed that you would risk-" 

"I'm not risking anything. You said this was a safe haven. Are you telling me that comes at a price of knowing everything about me? Forget that." You stand and head towards the door. Truthfully you rather jump out the nearest window and hit the ground running but- 

_Slamming doors? Way more dramatic._

"Wait, I believe we've encountered a misunderstanding. Please, sit." 

You turn around but you don't sit, instead you position yourself between the door and and the open window, back against the wall, just in case. 

There's a certain amount of obligation here and it's probably the only reason you're not tearing someone's eyes out. 

"No matter what, you will never be forced to leave here. However, as per the beliefs I have signed myself to, I want to help you control you powers." 

You open your mouth to interrupt, wondering what exactly your past has to do with your powers, but the Prof holds up a hand. 

"I think you are subconsciously blocking the ability to control your mutation." 

"Block it? Like, I'm purposely trying to be an uncontrolled energizer bunny so I can go around blowing stuff up for what? For fun?" 

That does not make sense. Sure, mindless destruction has it's perks but it loses it's appeal when you can accidentally kill the taco cart guy. 

"No, I think- like many of the students here- you had something awful, traumatic even, happen and it either brought forth you powers, or was even _caused_ by them." 

"And how would you know that?" You whisper, because that is awfully close to the truth. 

The Professor taps his temple, his features carefully schooled into neutrality. 

"I thought you didn't intrude, didn't _dig?"_

"I didn't need to. I glimpsed your mind the moment Wolverine brought you in. I had been checking for brain damage, but-" 

"You found it. Just not the kind you looking for. Heh." You cover your face with a hand, maybe because you're stressed maybe because you're trying to hide the deranged grin on your face. "So what? Even though I've come to terms with it all, it's all fake? I'm really still some six year-old kid, terrified out of my mind? That's what you're saying?" 

"What happened when you were six?" 

He says and that's when you realize your mistake. You gave away too much. 

"I'm not talking about it." 

"I think you should. Not to me if you don't want but-" 

"I'm not talking about it," You spit, walking towards the desk and bracing yourself against it, leaning forward. The wood digs into your palms, heat flaring on your skin and you know you look pissed. You are pissed. 

The Professor, to his credit, doesn't look phased. But you're really not trying for that. 

You can feel the tingling across your skin, the pain behind your eyes. It's starting, building, and you clench your teeth against the tide of energy inside you. 

Your eyes snap open and you didn't even know when they had closed. Everything has a green tint to it, swirly energy framing the Professor's face. 

*Can you stop it?* The Professor's calm and you can feel his presence in your head, a hand holding you up. Steady. 

"I- I think so," You force out through gritted teeth, voice strained. 

It takes a lot to push it down, to curb your anger and douse the flame of your powers. The Professor probably has a lot to do with it, him and his stupid calm. His blasted concern. 

_He can shove it up his arse._

"This," You say once your voice is steady. Your throat feels raw though and you growl out the rest, _"This is why I don't talk about it."_

xxxx 

You slam the door shut behind you, leaning against it as you try to catch your breath. 

You had stormed out of the Professor's office, his words of advice echoing in your mind. 

Everywhere you go people are butting into your business. You should've never stayed here, never began to- to _trust_ them. 

Everyone always screws you over in the end. 

"Did it go _that_ bad with Chuck?" 

That baritone of a voice is Logan, as always. He's about as bad as the Professor when it comes to butting in. He's always there when you look, lurking around holding whatever it is you're looking for, showing you around, and always with a gin. 

It's so passive aggressive it's- it's- it's- 

_Cute._

Oh no. 

No, you are not thinking that. It's cute in the way a puppy running into a wall repeatedly would be cute. Mostly it's just annoying, 

_That's right. Annoying. Like those jerks who talk in movie theaters._

_Special hell and all._

You snort, completely ignoring him as you dive under the bed, patting around for a bag. 

"Hey, come on, what happened?" He asks as you come up with the. He's perched on your bed, face somewhere between amused and concerned. His cigar is lit too, and he blows the smoke right into your face. 

He obviously thought the snort was an answer. 

It wasn't. 

You inhale the scent of the cigar and it's smoke as you kneel, staring at the bag in your hands. 

You've always been pretty neutral on smoking, but your room is starting to smell like an ashtray. Which sucks, because Logan's cigars actually have a sweet smell to them. Sweet, yet bitter and kind of minty. 

Like Logan. 

He knows you don't mind and that's why this is the only place he'll dare smoke inside. The Professor's threats aside. 

"Did you know?" You ask quietly, toying with the zipper. Storm had bought the bag for you within your first week here. The one you had, along with all your clothes, were ragged and old. 'Trash,' she had said, 'Complete trash.' 

The only thing that had survived the years and the Sentinels was the jacket Nate gave you. 

So Storm bought you replacements but had handed the bag to you separate, saying 'just in case.' 

_Just in case I run again._

"Did I know what?" Logan growls, pulling you out of your thoughts. He's cross-legged now, knee right by your head and he's stubbed out the cigar. 

"That was he- he was going to _ambush_ me? All of a sudden he wants to know about my past, what happened, what I did. Because suddenly it's just _so_ important," You snarl, rising to your feet and stalking over to the dresser. You rip out the drawer with far more force then necessary and you can hear the crack of the wood. It's splintered somewhere, probably near the runner. A pity. 

You start shoving stuff in the bag. 

"What are you doing?" 

"What does it look like?" You snap, fumbling the zipper closed on one part of the bag before yanking open the next. 

You stop for a moment, breathing and trying to calm down. Nothing ever goes over well when you're angry. 

Point in case, _the Professor._

"Packing," You amend in a softer voice. 

"Where you gonna go?" Logan asks and, when you turn, he's still sitting on the bed. But now he's facing, his expression is the ever present scowl, like everything in the world pisses him off. 

You can relate. 

"Back to the city, probably." 

"And do what?" 

"Find Nathan. Exactly what I was doing before." 

"Where are you going to stay?" 

"I don't know!" You throw your hands up, bag dropping to the floor. " A hotel, a shelter, under a damn bridge. Why does it mater?" 

"Cause you shouldn't be out in the streets. You shouldn't be running." 

"I rather do that if staying means I gotta suffer some damn inquisition." 

"Alright, alright. Hell," Logan curses and he's standing now, within arm's reach. 

"You never answered my question." 

Logan looks at you, tilting his head like you asked him a thousand questions and he doesn't know which one to answer. 

"No..." He finally says, and after a long pause he continues, "But I knew he'd probably ask, eventually. It's what he does. He has to help everyone he can even when we don't want it." 

"So you agree with him? You think he should just get whatever the hell he wants, don't you?" 

"What, _exactly_ , did he say?" 

"You're deflecting." 

"No, I'm not. Listen, humor me, what did he say?" 

You sag against the dresser, crossing your arms as you stare at the floor. "He said I was subconsciously blocking the control of my mutation. That I hadn't moved on from what happened to me. That it was all- it was connected somehow. My lack of control and what happened. And he asked- he asked what happened." 

"And that bothers you?" 

" _Hell yes!_ It's none of his business." 

"He's trying to help." 

"And he promised." 

"Promised?" 

"Not to ask. People ask, Logan, they always do. But people don't _promise_ me, Logan. They don't promise me, and then make me- _ask_ me, to go through that again. To _relive_ it." 

Logan's face changes, _falls,_ really, and he looks sad. 

"Too many people have broken their promises to me, Logan." 

And then he hugs you. Thick, strong arms wrap around you and you realize you're shaking. 

Neither of you says anything and you rest your face on his shoulder. It feels oddly warm in his arms, safe. And comfy. Very comfy. 

_It might even rival the hoodie._

It may have been seconds or minutes, you're not sure, but he's still hugging you and you feel kind of guilty because you're just standing there. "I hope you're not expecting me to cry. 'Cause I don't do that." 

His chest vibrates with his laughter. "No, but I do expect a hug back. This is kind of a two person thing and I don't do this mushy crap often." 

You smile and get your arms around him. "God, I know right?" You mutter. "Emotion, ugh, gross." "Disgusting," He agrees. 

You pull away and he lets you go,. Instead of the awkward silence you were expecting, it's oddly comfortable. 

And then the moment shatters. 

"I think Xavier's right though." 

"Dammit, Logan," You curse and you're already reaching for the bag. 

Logan stops you, grabbing your wrist. "No, listen. I think you should learn to control your powers. And if Chuck thinks that talking will help with that- he's right. He's got a head for things like this. But nobody's going to make you and it doesn't have to be him." 

"Then who, Logan?" You can't believe you're even considering this. There are just some things better left alone. "Who would want to listen to, much less understand, the crap I've been through." 

"I would," Logan says immediately, and he looks more surprised he said it then you are. "Look," Logan sighs and runs a hand through his hair. His other hand twitches like he needs another smoke. "Chuck helped me, he ain't a bad guy. I think he's right. And I can't do the head trip thing, but I can listen- and- and that's all I'm going to ask you for. I don't ask for things but I'm asking this. I'm going to ask you to let me listen and to stay." 

"That's two things," You say, smiling. 

"Ah, shut it." Logan cuffs the back of your head and you laugh. "So?" 

"Fine," You say even though part of you is telling you to say 'no' and run. You'd probably scream it though. "I must be out of my mind, but fine. But only because you asked." 

"Good, good. Now I got to go. Jean wants me to ax some lumber for the fireplace." 

"It's not even winter." 

"I know, I think it's a punishment for you ditching her class." 

"Better you than me." 

"That's what I said." 

He's got a hand on the doorknob when you stop him, asking something else that's been on your mind since the weird hugging thing. "Your shirt's really soft." 

_Maybe I can get one like it? Or at least the same material? Ororo would know stuff like this probably._

Logan looks back and shrugs. 

Then he looks down and takes it off. 

Like, takes off his shirt completely. 

Like, 'What are you- oh wow, look skin- _oh my god those abs._ ' 

Then he throws the shirt at you and says "keep it" before walking out. 

You stare at the door and then the shirt for awhile. What kind of man just walks into a room and whips his shirt off? 

Well, okay, yeah, you walked in the room and there was a lot of talking and you did have that heartfelt moment thing but still. 

Plus, isn't this a _school?_

You smell the shirt and brush it against your face, thinking of the part cat thing again. 

It smells of smoke, oil, exhaust, and aftershave. Even a touch of leather. 

And Logan. 

It definitely smells of Logan. 

It's also still soft. Softer than the stolen sweatshirt, you decide. 

You shrug as you throw the shirt on the bed, grabbing the bag off the floor and emptying it. 

You keep one set of clothes in it though. 

_Just in case, you think as you slide it back under the bed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are going to be far slower and way less regular now that school has started up for me again. Sorry. I'm still going to keep writing, but this fic is all in my notebook, so it's just going to take longer to transcribe to laptop and edit from here on out. I do however have chapter seven completed in the notebook and as soon as eight is finished I will make the move to put that up.
> 
> Also, is it me, or are the chapters getting longer?


	7. Important Questions for a Later Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You liked living in your delusion quite frankly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it's been quite a while hasn't it? Something like...two years?? I apologize for the delay life got a bit out of hand and I lost motivation for writing in general. My recent rediscovery of the animated X-Men cartoon has inspired a little bit of a muse that I've chosen to follow. 
> 
> To be honest I have no idea what my original plan for this fic was but I have new ideas for a direction that are forming so we're gonna follow that. 
> 
> Now we're slowly diving back in with a little reader-insert introspection, so sorry for the lack of action and lack of interaction with the other X-Men but we're gonna take a bit to get back in the swing of things. 
> 
> So here we go, lemme know what you think if you stuck with this fic this long or if you're a new reader who's just stumbling by.

It’s been about a month of you slinking around avoiding the Professor. 

You’ve got your grades up, mostly due to actually attending class but hey, it still counts. That GPA was definitely gonna get you into…mutant…college…or whatever. _Mutant University? Mutant Technical School? McDonald’s?? Where did the graduates of this place even go?_

—Important questions for a later date.

Other than classes you haven’t done much, there’s been this weird dark cloud of just pure _uggghhh_ hanging over you and it has slowed your motivation to do anything to—well basically nothing. Yeah. Just no desire to do anything. At all.

It’s annoyingly reminiscent of how you felt in the fallout of the bigger arguments you and Nathan had. All those fights where Nate’s subtle god complex started to become not-so-subtle (you had to wonder how apparent it was now, so many years later) and you’re fuck everyone attitude was already in full bloom and the two different thought processes hadn’t been conducive to much of anything aside from explosive existential arguments about _purpose_ and _duty_ and _you’re a mutant, you have a responsibility!_

_A responsibility to myself!_ You had always argued back. The sentiment seemed even truer now in the aftermath of your discussion with the Professor…and even the one with Logan. 

Screw what the X-Men were all about and what Xavier’s idealism was what the hell were you trying to accomplish? Did you really need control over your powers? You had done pretty well suppressing them when needed…of course that’s all you were doing. Suppressing them. And even Nathan had to help you with that at times. 

Hell, even the Professor was worried about you losing it right there in his office over a simple conversation. 

Pretty good evidence pointing towards learning the control right?

But then…if something as simple as discussing the prospect almost led to an outburst, what would actually talking about your past do? 

Your mind flashed with an image of Nate, that shock of white hair landing in his eyes as he hit his knees, screaming bloody murder, eyes watery as his ears bled.

That’s what happened the last time you even went as far as to even _think_ about the events in detail. What the hell would happen if you talked about it…went on some weird head-trip through it with Xavier’s help? He could end up just like Nate, maybe worse. And if you lost control…you could level this whole school.

That’s more blood on your hands than you’re comfortable with. That is to say if you’re comfortable with any at all.

And what would Logan think? Or Ororo? Hell, what about Nate?

In the entirety of your life you’ve come to trust those three and those three only. How much damage would they tolerate? Nate had gone through hell with you but even he had to have limits to his patience to his…goodness. 

Even God cut the unworthy from his cloth. 

Nate wasn’t here though, you hadn’t seen him in years was he even worth considering. For all you know he might not even be seeking you out. When you were separated he could have thought ‘good riddance’ and was more than content to leave you by the wayside.

Maybe you had been chasing a figment of the past all these years. A man that didn’t exist anymore. 

You shook your head, wouldn’t do good to think of such things now. Finding Nate had been the only goal you had for years, if you lost that now what purpose would you have?

What then for Logan and Ororo. They were your friends, treated you what you imagine family was like. And they had known you for such a short time. Would they be as forgiving as Nate had been? 

Realism would say not at all. Nate was godly even in his sense of forgiveness and mercy. Few others could attain that level of compassion.

Or stupidity depending on how you looked at it.

You’d been thinking in circle this past month, the same reasons and excuses coming up and you were no closer to a definitive answer. Part of you was worried about the damage and part of you just screamed at yourself for being a whiny baby and to just shut up and talk about things already cause that’s all they were asking—was for you to _talk._

And another part of you…a larger part admittedly, hell maybe all of you, knew you were just scared, weak even, pathetic ultimately. That you were too damn scared to remember what had happened that’s why you kept it all buried, why you couldn’t consciously remember the details. And that you were too scared to see what you really were. Despite not remembering exact events, you _knew_ in a bone deep atomic level kind of way that what laid in your past wasn’t just a lot of blood and murder, that there were monstrosities, acts of evil even, that you were undoubtedly responsible for. 

That’s what you really feared in the end, having to admit you were a monster. It was one thing to feel it, feelings weren’t absolute, and it was another thing to see it clearly in your mind, to see the acts you committed.

You liked living in your delusion quite frankly. 

How delusional did one have to be before it was considered a mental illness? 

Yet another question for another time. 

Your teeth were starting to hurt now, the blood having done rushed to your head and rendering you fairly numb and light-headed. You curled upwards, swinging yourself until you were seated upright on the tree branch once more instead of hanging upside down by your knees. It was dark now, not pitch black due to the stars but pretty close. Crickets chirped around you and the forest sung low with the harmonies of animals running about. 

_While civilization sleeps, nature comes alive you thought._

Your watch read 2 am, far past the curfew Xavier set for new students, or rather the _I don’t trust you fully yet (or you’re like 5) so if you remain under my roof you need to be inside by this time rule. No exceptions._

If Xavier was a more heartless man, he probably would have kicked you off the premises by now. You hadn’t followed a single curfew since being here, hadn’t follow many of the rules either aside from ‘attend classes’. 

And that was a miracle in itself wasn’t it, the fact that he hadn’t been kicked out. Or maybe it wasn’t, the more time you spent on campus with the other students, albeit as far from anyone as possible, the more you saw the depths of the Professor’s influence, his compassion, so many of these students better off from his teaching.

Maybe he was right. 

“Shouldn’t you be in bed, mein freund? Not that I have any room to talk but you seem quite exhausted.”

You so didn’t jump, not even a little, but damn Kurt was sneaky as hell when he wanted to be. “Exhaustion doesn’t always beget sleep.”

“Ah, wahr, wahr. And dare I ask what keeps one as young as you up so late?”

“You say that as though you’re decades older than me Kurt.” 

Kurt laughs, tail flicking around him. The two of you have found an easy camaraderie, something Kurt seems to have with everyone really but you enjoy it nonetheless. He treats you much the way Logan and Storm do, though a little less…forcibly. Whereas Storm and Logan have a ‘you’re family like it or not’ vibe, Kurt is more than happy to let you come and go as you please. He’s nowhere near as suffocating. 

“Sometimes I feel I am. The wisdom of the Lord is ageless and ancient, it keeps me at peace. Something I think you could use well.”

“Don’t preach at me, Wagner,” you say bitterly. “Some of us are beyond peace.”

“Now you sound like, Wolverine.” He laughs again, sad this time but lets the subject drop. “I have an idea.”

“An idea?” Kurt’s got that mischievous tilt to his voice, it peaks your interest despite the long-suffering funk you’ve been in. 

“Something I think you’ll like. Tomorrow though, I still think you need sleep. Meet me in the main hall after dinner, ja?”

“Got myself a hot date, cool.” 

Kurt bounds down the tree, laughing the whole way back to the mansion. 

Hell, you even find yourself smiling a little.


	8. An Omen?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _0 out of 5 stars, this is worse sentinels. Worst virtual reality game ever._

The next day passes by quickly. Quickly as in you woke up with the pillow stuck to your face through the amazing glue powers of drool and it was already past five o’clock. The first thought in your mind is _my, my, where does the day go?_ Right before _shit I had class. Like five of them. Shit._

And here you had been doing so well at the whole student thing. 

“How the hell did I sleep so long?” You ask Wolvie, not expecting an answer. He stares at you blankly from the end table on your right, plastic grin firmly in place. You pick up the little plastic figure and twirl him around in your palm, remembering when Ororo had given him to you.

_“As the X-Men become more famous, some of our more creative fans come up with these little knickknacks, cool collectibles and such. He’s really quite cute isn’t he?”_

_You took the cartoonish toy version of Wolverine from her hand, eyeballing it suspiciously. “Does Logan know he has such admirers out there?”_

_Ororo shrugged, “Who knows but now the little guy is yours. Call it a good omen.”_

_“An omen? Omen of what? Hey! Storm!”_

She never did tell you what she had meant by that, having disappeared back into the store, laughing. Now anytime you asked she acted like she had no idea what you were talking about. 

The X-Men were weird. 

“Don’t look at me like that Wolvie, you make it seem like I’m being judgmental. They are weird. All of them. Even Kurt with all his—niceness. Who the hell is that naturally friendly? It makes my eye twitch. And like—wait a sec.” 

You looked back down at Wolvie, his plastic eyes staring at you with some kind of _knowing,_ like he was trying to tell you something. “I’m forgetting something aren’t I?”

Wolvie’s eyes didn’t twitch. 

You looked at the clock seven thirteen blaring back at you.

 _SHIT!_

“Why didn’t you just tell me what I was forgetting, you dumb plastic thing?? I was supposed to meet Kurt like an hour ago, fuck!”

xxx

“I hope you are well-rested my freund, being as late as you were,” Kurt says as the two of you move out of the elevator. You seem to be in some sort of subbasement, long hallways of stainless steel stretching before you. It was much different than your first experience with hallways in the mansion. There wasn’t a single rug in site, nor any weird little figurines that the Professor had lining every available surface upstairs.

You glowered at Kurt, sleep still sticking to your eyes as you ran a hand through your hair. “I said I was sorry. It’s not like the clock can send out a reminder or something like ‘hey get up, you got plans’.”

“Actually it can, it’s called an alarm,” Kurt was smiling at you, eyes laughing at your expense even as his tail pressed random numbers on the keypad, making the huge metal stores in front of you slide open with a mechanical hiss. 

“Wait, what? The clock can talk to me? Is that what I’ve been hearing in the middle of the night because somebody keeps talking disturbing my me-time and it’s annoying and what the hell is this?”

Kurt had led you inside a room, it was huge—like basketball court huge—and all the walls were covered in metal paneling. “Is this like…some weird murder room? Like…a lab?” Your voice only sounded a little off but you couldn’t deny the slight shudder that was trying to push its way through you. This place was just screaming lab experimentation and you were so not okay with that. Maybe it was a lab? Like that other blue guy’s…uh Hank? Someone said he was a scientist. You hadn’t seen much of him since that first day but he seemed pretty cool. Maybe this was his lab but without all the…lab stuff…there were no metal slabs or medical instruments…hell, the room was empty aside from one window on the far side. 

“Murder room? Nein, nein,” Kurt had made his way to the relative center of the room arms spread wide in a grand gesture. “This mein freund, is the Danger Room.”

You balked. “ _Danger Room?_ As in, things trying to kill me room? Are they’re sentinels in here? They were the last things trying to kill me and have to say, not a fan. 1 out of 5 stars would not want fight again.”

Kurt listened to your nervous rambling with patience, his tongue licking at his fangs as though he was enjoying watching you suffer.

Who knew the blue fuzzball, a symbol of courtesy, had a sadistic side to him?

“No sentinels, at least not this time. But trust me, you’ll love this. Danger Room, run program Nightcrawler 3.”

You wonder what “this time” meant as the room seemed to jump into life. One minute you were standing in an empty room and the next there was a car barreling towards you before swerving out of the way and crashing into a hydrant. Behind the eruption of water you watched, in plain freaked out _awe_ as these flying…. _pterodactyls?_ came towards you. Weren’t they supposed to be extinct?

“See I told you you’d love it!”

Kurt’s bouncing around, dodging the flying dinosaurs… _laser beams?_ They’re flying in a circle above the mutant taking multiple shots at him as Kurt just dances around, eventually teleporting above the one causing it’s flight path to shift drastically. 

Two seconds later he’s jumping away from the crash, laughing. Of course he’s laughing he just rode a _dinosaur_ into the _ground._

“Kurt!” You yell, jumping out of the way of your own laser beams being shot at you. “what the hell is this?”

“The danger room like I said. It’s a hologram really. Helps the X-Men train to fight.”

“So I won’t die?” You lunged forward making a grab for one of the pterodactyls, wrestling the beast into the ground and punching it out. You can’t really fight, not like official Bruce Lee kickass like at least. You can street brawl, cage fight maybe, because alley scraps were what you were getting into every week but fighting dinosaurs? What kind of karate class were you suppose to take for that?

“Uh, doubtful.” That sounds like a shrug was Kurt shrugging?

“What do you mean ‘doubtful’?”

“The danger is fairly real, that’s why it’s the danger room. But I will stop it before anything serious happened.”

And then you got hit because you weren’t paying attention. 

Because somehow, despite the fact that they were fucking _dinosaurs_ you thought it was more important to look at Kurt instead and the laser beams hit you full force on the chest.  
You’re sent skittering back, skipping across the asphalt like a stone across water. You feel like a roasted marshmallow, positively _burned._

Kurt offered you a hand up, his blue ears twitching shamefully. “Are you alright?”

“Fine, I’m sure I’ll be bruised tomorrow but nothing’s broken.” 

The pterodactyls were lined up in front of both of you now, almost like they were egging you on; baiting you to rush forward. You couldn’t help grinning, feeling a certain excitement bubbling through you. 

“I think you’re right Kurt, this will be fun.”

You took a stance neck to Kurt, cracking your knuckles, the fuzzball was cackling next to you as you both ran headlong at the pterodactyls. Kurt was full of surprises you thought. 

At first it was easy, with your jumping abilities and minor control over your energy powers all you had to do was get close to the dinosaurs and then unleash a nasty a little burn on them. They’d hit the ground in a spiral. It was great.

It was the most fun you had in—who knows how long. All the built up anger was working its way out of your system. Every blast of energy was growing brighter, the green glowing near white the more pterodactyls you took down. 

Eventually Kurt changed the playground, the pterodactyls morphing into people—no _mutants._ Each had different powers and it was amazing, you had never seen so many mutants actively being mutants in one place. There were lightning bolts whizzing by your head, pointed skewers like Wolverine’s claws trying to lodge themselves in your skin. There was this huge beast of a man running headlong through walls to come barreling towards Kurt but he jumped deftly out of the way.  
It was insane.

There was about five or six of them total. You could see that now that you weren’t so amazed and you could follow the action better. They were all dressed in ridiculously bright colored outfits and you had to wonder once again why the hell super-powered dressed so impractically. 

_It’s like a damn circus._

And then you feel it, this weird sharp pain, right in your shoulder and then a _tug_ and you’re flying through the air, crashing through a couple buildings, dragging along the ground before coming to a sudden halt, thirty feet in the air and you felt like you were hanging by a thread, that same damn pinhole pain in your shoulder, like all your weight was hanging there. 

You screamed. It felt like your shoulder was tearing, ripping apart and you half-wondered if it was about to be ripped out of your body.

All that excitement died right then and there. Instead fear and anger started blazing through your body. Your eyes burned. 

You felt like a ragdoll.

“Well, well, quite the feisty one aren’t you?”

You forced your head to look up. And right there in front of you was a man, donned in a menacing red and purple outfit that despite its flamboyancy looked nowhere near as ridiculous as it should. He was flying—no, _floating_ —held up by some kind of force field.

His smile was vicious too, sharp like a knife as he stared at you.

He was gonna kill you. 

“Y/N, no!” Kurt screamed from somewhere below you. He sounded almost as scared as you felt. 

What kind of hologram was this?

“Who-who are you?” The words sounded guttural, torn as they dragged their way out your throat if that was any clue to the amount of pain you were in. 

The man laughed, removing his helmet to reveal a shock of white hair. For a moment you thought of Nathan, and then…and then something—some _one_ far more familiar. 

Your stomach dropped. 

Some kind of _force_ pulled you closer to the man, your shoulder still screaming at you. When you were close enough the force dropped away, instead his fingers wrapping around your throat and tightening. Not quite choking, but enough to send you into panic because _shit you’re 30 feet in the air hanging by your throat!_

“Xavier has a new pet, eh? How precious, you’re just a _child._ He does have quite an obsession with you children, doesn’t he? If I didn’t know him better, I’d be somewhat disturbed.” The man laughed, deep and throaty, but his eyes never changed they were still cold and stagnant, no emotion. 

“Let them go!” 

You turned your head a little, managing to see just a little of Kurt. He was standing now, the other brightly dressed mutants lying limp, scattered around him.

“Calm down, Nightcrawler. We are just talking up here, are we not?”

There was a threat there, on that last word as the man turned his gaze back to you. Suddenly the hand closed around your throat tightened and you couldn’t breathe. 

“Not very talkative are we, how disappointing.”

You were losing it now, feet kicking uselessly in the air until they weren’t kicking at all, the fingers you had scrabbling against the arm holding you aloft slowing. Your thoughts were sluggish, half-formed and nonsensical. You were gonna die. Right here, right now. In this damn danger room of Kurt’s that was no longer any fun. 

You were about to be killed by a hologram. 

_0 out of 5 stars, this is worse sentinels. Worst virtual reality game ever._

_So much for finding Nathan._

He’d laugh at you now, getting killed by something that wasn’t real. After everything the two of you went through. Hell, Logan would probably laugh his ass off too.

“So weak,” you heard the man say, his voice sickly sweet. “This is what’s become of you. Someone who’s survived so much? This is the one Nathan chose to stand beside him?”

_Wait- what?_

You weren’t sure what was happening but you felt hot all over, like you were on fire. You could feel this building electricity within you. 

_What is this?_

You had never felt it before, not nearly so powerful and…intense at least. Were you losing control again, what-

Suddenly the man let go, holding his arm and cursing. You should have been falling but you weren’t, suspended in the air by your own will now. Green swirls were beginning to envelop your vision as you regained control over your breathing and your chest loosened. 

Kurt was standing stock-still beneath you, awe painted his face. 

The man was still suspended by his weird force field in front of you and he was glaring, but his mouth was twisted in some ruthless smile, as though he wanted this to happen.  
And what was this exactly?

You looked down at yourself, your hands were glowing green, bright bolts of green energy hitting the ground at random intervals and crackling against the dirt. 

“Ha! Maybe Nathan wasn’t as stupid as I thought.”

You growled. Why did this virtual villain talk like he knew Nathan. What the hell kind of hologram knew things like he did? 

You struck an arm out, feeling energy come soaring out, straight out at the man and crackling against his force field in a shower of blue and green. 

“Touched a nerve did I? What you have some feelings for your friend perhaps?”

Another bolt struck out from you, crashing against the field. “Shut it.”

“Definitely a nerve then. Why so defensive though, hmm? You’ll find I have much respect for your friend, I simply-“

“I said shut it!” 

Multiple bolts launched out this time, smacking against the shield and you could see it now, the way the field cracked under each blow. _Serves him right._

You sent more bolts out, laughing, you could feel your power expanding, like it was taking over the room. Around you things were crackling with life, energy bounding in every direction. Is this what it felt like? To let loose? To embrace your mutation?

How strong were you really? What better place to find out than against some asshole that pretended he knew Nathan?

“It’s you I have no respect for,” the man was saying. “You’re like a rabid dog, no control, wandering around lost. Licking the hand of whoever feeds you, like Xavier for example. Have you become one of his little X-Men yet, running around doing his bidding? He always picks up the weak ones like you. It explains why Nathan isn’t with you. I imagine he was sent running by your pitiful existence.”

“I said SHUT UP you freak!” More bolts shot out, cracking against the shield until it broke apart into nothing. Then the man was standing there with nothing protecting him and more bolts shot out, shooting straight for him. 

You didn’t have control over those, you hadn’t sent them, but you found you didn’t care if they hit him or not. 

“Stop!”

That sounded like Kurt, where was Kurt?

You looked around but you couldn’t see anything past all the green energy, it was everywhere, almost like it was encasing you and the other man. _What the hell?_

“Yes, maybe you should stop eh? Before you get yourself hurt.” The man was snarling now, standing at his full height. His arms splayed out before him and you could feel your shoulder screaming at you again. _He must have some metal power or something?_ But there was a force pushing against you as well, slamming into you. 

“Do you always talk so much?”

“Only when I have to. Besides, I want you to let loose. Let’s see what you’re really made of—you the one who stood alongside Nathan, you the one who has escaped mutant labs a number of times, and you who are responsible for the murder of many.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten? What did you have Xavier hide your past from you? Don’t you remember losing control and killing so many, killing your friends, your parents, nearly killing _Nathan?”_

You screamed, all the energy surging up, the air itself felt charged and you could feel things, objects, breaking apart under the intensity of the energy. You let your anger surge, pushing back the images in your head, gruesome pictures that you were familiar with—they were from your nightmares, your memories. And you lashed out with everything you had, sent it all spiraling towards the monster who talked as though he knew your whole life story.

“Y/N, enough, stop!”

You could feel it fading the more you sent surging out, as though you were being drained. But that was fine as long as you destroyed this man. 

In the last few moments before the wave beam of light hit him, your mind flashed—

_It's the Prof, a lot younger but still just as bald, with another man- tall with silver mane of hair and haunted eyes._

_**Well, ain't that familiar.** _

_The man looks extremely familiar. You're even sure you know quite a bit about him. It's all heavy on your tongue, bitter and near sour. His name escapes you though, and it's the most frustrating thing but you plow ahead, trying to remember._

_His name escapes you though—_

_Erik, Magnus, Max, Magneto, **Dad.**_

In that moment, everything turns, you feel all the energy you let go slam back into and you’re falling, watching as Magneto smiles at you as you fall. 

Your eyes close and you never hit the ground.


	9. Land of the Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then the screaming started up again and you hadn’t even realized when it stopped.

How often does one have to wonder if they’re dead in a lifetime? You wonder if there’s a limit. You’re already at about 5 and 2 of them happened within a couple months of each other. That’s not good right? Like damn you’re pretty young and you’ve had enough near-death/maybe-death experiences for at least 3 grown adults. 

Well, 3 grown normal adults. You imagine adults like Wolverine or even that guy in the tin suit flying around New York have a really high near-death experience count.

Is there a reward for a high count? Like _haha, good job you’ve cheated death this many times, congratulations here’s an endless supply of donuts to keep you happy in the afterlife._

Donuts would be cool.

Oh right, you were doing something—wondering if you were alive, that’s right. 

To say it’s déjà vu would be an understatement because as you open your eyes it’s almost the exact same experience as it was when you first awoke in the Xavier mansion. 

Everything hurts. Your shoulder’s a constant dull ache, like needles pushing into it slow and steady. Your eyes on the other hand seem to have those same needles pricking into them, in an out at a rapid pace; just this sharp blinding pain that takes a while for you to adjust to so that you can actually _see._

When the world starts to come into view, nothing is familiar. You’re lying in wet dirt, the mud clinging to you. There’s a sprinkle of rain, light drops sliding down your face from the pine trees above you.

 _What the hell?_

You drag yourself into a sitting position, feeling your ribs scream at you and, that’s another injury to add to the list. This is starting to remind you of the time that you and Nathan thought it would be good to jump out a 2nd story window into a pool. Sounds fun yeah, but in practice not so much. Plus, you were running from some pretty nasty types at the time so, double no fun. 

Well if all the _nature_ is anything to go by, you’re in the woods. It’s quiet aside from the slight rustle of branches in wind. Twilight has fallen but there’s still enough light to see clearly. Not that it helps much; there are just trees, trees, and more _trees._ Wait, that might be a squirrel there, so not just trees, wildlife too. Cool. 

You get to your feet, holding an arm against your middle to ease the pain a little. None of the injuries are life-threatening, you think. But then, if you’re dead and this is the afterlife it’s kind of rude you’re still in pain. And if it’s not the afterlife then it’s rude of whomever to leave you in the middle of the woods when you obviously need medical attention—people these days. 

Once you’re standing it’s obvious you have to go somewhere. The question is where. For a moment you try to remember what happened, maybe that would give you a clue as to where you were and therefore where to go? Except your head was just nothing but fuzzy cotton and the more you tried to _think_ the more you’re head hurt until you were hissing at the pain. 

Alright then, memories weren’t going to tell you anything, nothing new there. 

You looked around the woods one last time, seeing if there was any indication of civilization. All you could see though was that one squirrel so you went that way. Maybe he knew where to go right? 

Yeah, totally.

You were sure how long you’d been walking, but with each step you started to feel…different. _Off._ The quiet thrum of pain turned into the quiet thrum of adrenaline as you remained on high alert, not sure what to expect. And you could feel a tingling throughout your limbs, like something had your powers up in arms. It was beginning to be comforting, the constant reminder that right at your fingertips, right under your skin, were unmeasured levels of deadly energy.

Didn’t sound as comforting when you put it like that but hey it works for you. 

It did make you wonder if that was a sign of coming danger. Your powers had always known when to rise, almost like a sixth sense. They just gave you a little nudge like _hey, something’s not right here we’re going to make sure you don’t die, okay?_

Still they left you feeling just a little on edge, like you were going to lose control or something and yet nothing was glowing green there were no immediate threats so you were safe, right?

 _Right?_

You kept trudging along, ignoring the cold that began to set in as the rain became a drizzle and the mud started to try and suck your feet into the earth. And then you saw it, like an almost convenient movie plot, a light just up ahead. _Ha, finally, warmth. And food. Donuts would be fantastic._

The closer you got the more the light started to change and flicker. You realized it wasn’t a light at all, at least not in the conventional sense. It was a flame, or rather fire.

Your heart was in your throat at the realization and that quiet thrum of adrenaline became a full blown stampede, coursing through your veins. 

You ran towards the flames, something was drawing you there, almost calling to you. 

It left a sickening slime of fear run down your spine. 

When you got closer it was almost like you stepped through some sort of bubble. All the sounds of the forest disappeared and all that quiet mutated into horrendous screams. You could hear the fire, _feel_ it burning around you, the crackling off wood as it destroyed. 

And that damn _screaming._

Yet you couldn’t see a single person. 

“Hello? Anyone need help not dying?” You called out to no avail. 

It was a cabin that was burning, well two of them connected into a bigger house. The flames hadn’t spread very far and it was almost as though they were burning slowly. Much of the cabin was still standing and even though the flames covered a good portion of it, it didn’t seem to burn. 

_Okay, freaky._

“This is so a bad idea but I’m full of bad ideas right? Just got to keep up the status quo at this point.” 

You stepped inside the cabin, the heat from the flames decreasing instead of amplifying like it should when so close to the source. Every part of you was screaming run, run, run. But you couldn’t. You had nowhere to go, had no idea what had happened, and more importantly you had to know why you’d been called here. Why did this place seem almost… _familiar?_

“Um, not trying to intrude but like, anyone need help? I’m not much but hey, your house is on fire can you really complain?”

Still no answer. Either no one thought you were very funny or…or there was no one answering because they were dead. 

The flames were still being held back, and now that you were inside the house you could actually see how none of the flames actually touched anything. They just floated a little above. 

In that case maybe a little detective work was needed. There didn’t seem to be any danger, despite what your sense were telling you. So you stayed alert but took the time to look around. There were pictures in the cabinets that lined the walls, bookcases brimming with literature. It was cozy, like a home. The pictures showed a happy family, a father, a mother, and their child, presumably. A few of the pictures showed just the child or one parent and the kid but it was all incredibly domestic and only made you a little sick. 

Hard not to hate what you never had. 

One of the pictures had a man, the same man in the others but his hair was longer, _whiter—_

A sharp stab through your head had you gasping, nearly hitting your knees.

You gritted your teeth, _what the hell._

*Calm your mind, deep breaths.*

You flinched, that voice— _Charles._ It seemed you couldn’t get away from him.

*You have piqued my interest, Y/N. So unfortunately, yes, you won’t be getting away from me so easily. But you need to breathe and _calm down._ I fear for your mental stability at the moment.*

“Mental stability?” You scoff, admittedly the effect was a little lost considering you were still gritting your teeth, biting back the pain. 

*Just breathe,* the Professor said again and you felt a hand on your shoulder, drawing you up. 

You stood, albeit a little shakily, facing the Professor. He had his eyes closed and his fingers pressed against your temple. A weird eerie calm seemed to come from those fingers, quelling the pain in your mind and even dampening the energy that had been boiling you blood only moments ago. 

The Professor drew his hand back and you nearly flinched from the loss, _so weird._

He stepped back from you then, a pleasant smile on his face.

“Wait you can walk! The hell?” It took some work to close your mouth at the realization but there it was, the wheelchair-bound Professor _standing_ in front of you; legit, standing, on his own two legs, no crutches or anything and seriously what the hell?

“Well, not quite but here in the land of the subconscious, in the land of the mind and dreams, I am able to do quite a many things. Including, walking.”

 _But you can walk,_ you found yourself thinking and the Professor chuckles. “Yes, I can walk.”

“Wait, you said something about the land of the mind? Where are we? Do you know? What happened? How’d I get here?”

“We are just where I said we were; the land of the mind, your mind in fact.” The Professor must have sense your sudden unease. “I realize you aren’t entirely comfortable with this and trust the fact that I would not have done this if I did not see it fit. But you were unstable in the world of the waking. Your powers fluctuating out of control. I feared for the safety of those trying to help you, of the other children at the school. And I feared for you own safety. 

Your mind was in such turmoil. I had to literally fight to get this far, to find you. You’re so buried in the depths of your own subconscious. And let me tell you your psyche was not welcoming to intruders. I worry somewhat of the damage I might have caused trying to reach you but, I fear it was necessary to reach you.”

“Necessary? You thought it necessary to invade my mind? Possibly damaging me because? Because what? There’s a few sparks flying off my unconscious body? And don’t even get me started on how outrageous this whole inside your psyche crap sounds but-“

“But I am responsible for the safety of many and your ‘sparks’ as you call it are energy bolts powerful enough to destroy my danger room and now threaten the safety of Jean and Hank as they try to tend to your wounds!” 

You shrank back a little at the anger in the Professor’s voice; you’d never heard it really before. Even when you were close to losing control of your powers right there in the Professor’s office he never was angry. 

“My apologies,” he said eventually, his shoulders sagging in exhaustion. “Unfortunately I’m tired and I’m afraid that trying to calm your mind for the past few hours has rendered me a little short on patience.” 

“It’s fine,” you said coldly. Feeling a little betrayed on some level, though you weren’t sure why. It wasn’t like you and the Professor were on the best terms as it was. 

Xavier gave you a sad look but you looked away, “So what now cue ball? We just go back outside?”

“I’m afraid it’s not that easy. Your mind is, for some reason, stuck on this particular moment in your memories. And it will not let you leave until you resolve the issue.”

“What issue?”

“I’m not sure. But your psyche wants you to relive this, so relive it you must.”

“Of course, because mental mumbo jumbo is a must have for any mutant right?”

You didn’t expect an answer, instead shrugging off any remaining pulls of pain and steeping towards the door that seemed like it would lead deeper into the cabin. If you were supposed to ‘relive’ a memory then you supposed you would do whatever felt right. And right now your curiosity wanted you to explore the rest of the cabin. 

Except, you couldn’t get the door open.

Seriously? Everything was just against you wasn’t it?

Then the screaming started up again and you hadn’t even realized when it stopped. The sound was horrid and you wanted it to stop. It sounded like a kid, a damn _kid._ You had a special hatred for people who hurt kids. 

You jerked on the doorknob, pulled and pulled and eventually, when you were righteously annoyed at having been bested by a damn door you shocked it down with a single energy bolt. 

The Professor looked fairly impressed and you had to smile. The glowing green eyes and such were probably an effect you could not avoid, but here, in your mind, you seemed to have better control than you did in the real world. 

You stepped through the door into sight vastly different than the rest of this weird dreamland. 

There were a circle of soldiers, standing above their fallen brothers circled around the family in the pictures. The mother lay limp on the ground, unmoving, and you just knew she was dead. And you mourned her though you didn’t know why. 

Still standing, surrounded by the soldiers, was the man and the child was in his arms. The kid was maybe six and suddenly you knew what this was, who these people were.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

“My parents, this is…they’re my parents, that’s me. What-what is this Professor?”

“I imagine this is that tragic day you refuse to speak of, the one you’ve kept suppressed for so long the details have long slipped past your conscious mind. Obviously, your psyche wants you to remember.”

“No. This- this can’t be happening…” You felt like your heart was going to burst as you watched the scene unfold, you found yourself reaching out towards the soldiers, but your hand passed straight through, like you were nothing but a ghost. “Stop this! You’ve done enough!”

Your cries fell on deaf ears, the group of soldiers continued talking; threatening you imagined though you couldn’t hear what was said. You watched as the father, you father, his face fogged from recognition, tried to reason with the men, tried to protect his child. 

You.

And then one of the soldiers was taking a step forward, reaching for the kid. And the kid was screaming, cries getting louder as he was dragged from his father’s arms. 

“Professor, stop this! Please, Charles make it stop, stop it!”

“I’m-I’m sorry I can’t, I’m…” His voiced faded as you turned back to the scene, the _memory._ This is what had happened and all of it was coming back to you now, every gory detail. You knew what was going to happen; you knew you had to stop it. Had to do something before—

You were too late.

As the soldier got closer the child began to glow, green swirling the room quickly before cracks of energy bolts exploded outward. All the soldiers fell to the ground, screaming, the energy burning away at their clothes, their, eating away until they were nothing but bones. 

The cabin suffered the same treatment. Red flames of fire mixing with the green energy as the walls around you crumbled. You watched, frozen, as your father was engulfed in the green energy as well, calling out, dropping the kid. 

_No._

_NO._

_No, no, no, no. Not again. NOT. AGAIN._

You let go then, let the pain wash over you, the memories, let it all come to glow in your palms as you power raged through you, uncontrolled.

“Y/N, what are you doing? Y/N, stop-“

You ignored the Professor. If this was the truth, if you were responsible for killing your father, if this is what really had happened—

Then you would end it now. End everything. The Professor could get out. But you, you had no intention of living, you’d die here like you should have all those years ago. 

“I said ENOUGH!” Your power lashed out in a circle, bright, intense green overpowering all else. The images of the people and the cabin and all the blood was washed away in a sea of lime green. You could feel the burn of green fire eating away at you and you laughed. This was how it should have been. You should have taken everything with you the first time. You would put it right now. 

You kept laughing, letting each ring of energy rise out of you with more destructive force than the last. 

And in those final moments you watched the face of your father come into view for the first time, perfectly crystal clear, before he too, was eaten by the green fire.


End file.
